


Soviet Power Supreme

by Shivern



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Futanari, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivern/pseuds/Shivern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zarya is large and in charge. She's packing and looking to pack it in. One by one, she's bedding the women around her. Who's next and how they're going to get gotten is her choosing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Widowmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarya finally captures the ever elusive Widowmaker and decides to give her good, hard taste of her Siberian Cream.

Contains: Rough Sex, Blowjob

* * *

 Amélie looked for a path. The rooftops were too high, the space between buildings too narrow. The doors were barred or locked. This alleyway, far from any sort of safe escape, was now a personal prison without any aid of cover. She heard the heavy footsteps, they were still chasing. The sniper wasn't fond of fighting up close but she'd have to make her stand here and now. Rifle readied, sights aimed at the one way in, she'd stand her ground. Four seconds, she guessed, until her pursuer rounded the corner.

Three seconds. She shrugged the tenseness from her shoulders. Two seconds. Her hands readjusted their grip, finger resting on the trigger. One second. Widowmaker brought the rifle to bear, eye down the sight. They were moments away, she began to pull the trigger preemptively but stopped as a shimmering barrier of energy made itself visible.

Aleksandra Zaryanova ran around the corner, full protected. Her plasma cannon whirled and fired, an orb of energy detonating close to her target. The rifle was knocked from her opponent's hand and skittles away into a dark corner. Disarmed and almost completely defenseless, Amélie crossed her slender arms. She was defeated, that much was clear.

“Oh dear… I seem to have dropped my rifle… I suppose you aren't going to let a lady like me go, hm?” Her lips gave Zarya a small grin.

“Again? You need muscle, like me. Keep your grip strong.” She set her cannon down against a wall. “Nyet. Bad women need to be punished, and you can't seem to learn.”

Widowmaker swayed her hips in thought, finger trailing down her chest. “Off to jail then? Or perhaps… something more fitting is on your mind, mon amie?”

Zarya approached, stopping short of her. She towered over top the purple-suited woman. “Da… something very fitting…”

Aleksandra pushed Amélie against the nearby brick wall, avoiding the dumpster nearby. Her strong hand kept her still as the other began to forcibly strip her enemy's clothing. The thin catsuit came away with ease, Widowmaker’s blue skin exposed to the cool afternoon air. She shuddered a bit; the sniper was already rather ‘cold-blooded’ and the air made her shiver. Her petite breasts hung free, her nethers open to anyone to see. Naked, out in the open, it made her blood run hot at the thought alone.

Her soft, tender skin was quickly roughed up as Zarya spun her around and shoved her into the wall again. There was a long, metallic rubbing. The former weightlifter yanked out long lengths of the sniper’s grapple cable until the spool ran dry.

“I picked up few tricks, just for you. Need to restrain you… though you can struggle if you like.~” She wound the strong wire around her captive’s arms before trailing it around her blue body at almost artistic angles.

Amélie snickered. “Just for me? You shouldn't have. Though, I do think I'll keep my dainty self intact tonight.”

“Intact? Good joke, very funny,” Aleksandra chuckled, tying a finish knot around Widowmaker’s back. “I've got steam to let loose, chasing little butt across town. I suppose for your sake, I hope so.”

The small woman was spun around one last time and was met with Zarya’s judging gaze. Her ‘rope work’ was passable. The cable was tied tightly around the sniper’s body, crossing over sensitive spots and into private areas. She shifted about, somewhat anxious. It felt good having it rub against her. Her breathing was starting to get heavier, her privates beginning to ache. It was made exponentially worse as her captor began to strip. Zaryanova’s body was strong, sexy, curvy in its own way. Amélie wouldn't ever admit it, but she liked that type.

Aleksandra let her breasts drop free, armor and undershirt discarded. Despite her muscle mass, her chest still boasted an ample bust. The real star of the show finally came on stage as she undid her pants and lower armor. She let it all fall free before pushing it away. A large, thick cock hung between her legs, complemented by a pair of firm balls. Widowmaker was always flustered when she saw the package revealed, no matter how many times they ran into each other. Her body wanted it in every way it could take it, and she could already feel moisture dripping from her nethers.

“Look at you, slut. Wet at the sight of cock, and a woman’s at that. Do you want it that badly?”

“I'd never want it,” she muttered defiantly.

Almost instantly there was hand across her face. It wasn't overtly hard but it surprised her. The stinging pain was a rush of its own. It warmed her cold body.

“Best not back talk, Amélie. How badly do you truly want it? Tell me and I may grace you with it.”

She'd have to swallow her pride, she couldn't fight what she wanted. “I want it so bad. To taste it, feel it down my throat until you cum right inside me.~” Her words were some of the smoothest Zarya had ever heard.

The well hung Russian smirked. “That sounds sincere enough. I'll gift you with it, my raw meat. Kneel, and get to work.”

The pink-haired woman gave her a small push as she came to be eye level with the beast. With her arms bound, her only tool was her small, sassy mouth. As much as she'd love to taunt her captor more, there wasn't much point in delaying. Widowmaker planted small kisses across Zarya’s soft, thick shaft, trailing from head to base. She gently sucked on the large woman's balls, making small curious moans. How much was saved up in here? Perhaps it wouldn't take long to find out, the monster of a dick was already stiffening. Aleksandra rubbed against the prostrated lady's face as blood rushed into her privates, as if marking her for the conquest to come. In no time she at full mast; almost eight inches of cock, throbbing in anticipation.

Unable to hide her desire, Lacroix panted heavily as it pushed into her face. The heat that radiated from it was insanely enticing. She tried to fight her urges, but it was a losing battle.

“Just like a French whore, huffing like female dog in heat. You want it that badly? Want me to fuck your face?”

“What is it the Americans say… I plead the Fifth? For all you know, I have a fever.” She mumbled her words as she began to suck on Zarya’s tip.

The Russian didn't respond to the taunt, simply watching and grabbing ahold of Amélie’s ponytail. She gripped close to the base, showing her dominance. The captive finally put her tongue to use, gliding along Zarya’s shaft. Soon, the tall woman's groin was covered in saliva. Lacroix found herself drawn to the heavy sack her captor had, licking and sucking on it fervently. There was a sort of musk to it, a pheromone rich scent that attracted her. They were so firm; the heft foretold of the amount that was packed away inside.

“Zarya, dear, you look so backed up. I bet you're aching for release,” she said with the tone of a concerned mother.

The former weightlifter scowled. “It is not the time for you to run your mouth. You're passable at best, but my patience is running thin.”

“Oh dear, if only I could help.” Amélie ignored the warning. “I just don't know how! Whatever shall you d-!?”

Aleksandra grabbed the woman's jaw, cutting off her sentence. Clearly, she'd had enough sass to last. She pressed in with her strong fingers and forced her mouth open. The muscular Russian forced her cock in between the silenced woman's lips and pushed in a small length before letting go of her face. Skewered in entirely different sense of the word, Amélie was unable to speak.

“That fits you much better. You're far more tolerable with your mouth stuffed,” she stated snidely. “I suppose I should not trust an overly talkative slut to do what's needed. As punishment, and as you deserve, I'm going to be rougher than a Siberian blizzard. Try to stay awake.”

Taking charge, Zarya began to thrust deeper. It took minute movements to push her way in, little pistons and gyrations to force in further. It was like forcing a bratwurst through a donut, slow and arduous. Every inch was a new heaven for the Russian, and it only multiplied as she dived to deeper depths. As for the French woman, it was hard to tell. Her eyes were tearing up, either from pain or pleasure. Perhaps both, knowing Amélie. In any case, Aleksandra began to thrust with refreshed vigor into her mouth.

“This fits you better, large dick in your tight, little mouth. How's it taste? Better than that… foie grois you enjoy so much?”

Widowmaker was silent. She had already become rather docile and accepting of her new position. There was an underlying pleasure to being humiliated by a well-endowed Russian beauty as she insulted and taunted her. The girthy cock pushed back and forth between inside her, stretching her cheeks and jaw to new limits. Zarya hadn't chased the woman down for chump change, though. She wanted to go deeper. With a strong shove, she popped past her captive’s initial ‘barrier’. Her thick head smacked into the back of Widowmaker’s throat, making the woman's eyes go wide in shock. The sniper sputtered, fighting her gag reflex. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her breath ragged as she struggled to fit air around the shaft that occupied the opening to her throat. She groaned in protest but was quickly silenced with a stiff pull on her hair.

Zarya was halfway. Impressive, but far from her real goal. She wanted to go all the way, the whole eight inches. Aleksandra cared little about whether or not her ‘companion’ could breathe. The back of Amélie’s mouth was still giving her resistance, the Russian would have to push past it. Her hands both gripped the blue-skinned woman's head and she pressed in from both sides. Strong arms and strong hips proved to be the key, her head began to inch forward at an almost unbearingly slow pace. At least for Lacroix it was, Zaryanova was enjoying the whole ordeal thoroughly. The cold-blooded assassin couldn't even get a real sound out. She struggled to get any sort of air to her lungs, her eyes wide in surprise. They ached for even a brief gift of oxygen. There was pain, both for the need of air and as her body made way for the intruding object, but her heart fluttered.

Her throat felt warm, full. Having Zarya’s entire length down her gullet excited her. The way her tender flesh parted and clenched back around the thick shaft was exhilarating. She relished every moment that she could as her captor made her way deeper and wondered what it would feel like with the whole thing inside her. Widowmaker found herself trying to help, a sort of Stockholm taking root. Amélie worked her muscles, guiding the cock in smoothly as far as she could manage. Even as her motions grew weak, her desire to take it all only strengthened.

As expected though, her captor only seemed to be further aroused by her attempts.

With tiny, forceful thrusts she delved deeper, stretching out the prostrated woman's throat.  It visibly bulged as the thick cock made its way downwards. This still wasn't enough. More, she wanted more! Impatient as always, Zarya drew back briefly, allowing her ‘partner’ as quick breath, before hammering back in as hard as she could. There was a loud sputter from Amélie as some of the air air was knocked from her lungs. The weightlifter groaned enthusiastically as she hilted inside the sniper’s gullet. Warm, wet, tight as hell, this was a small heaven! She wanted to relish this. The feeling muscle reflexively trying to hold onto her; soft, tender flesh squeezing around her on all sides. As much as she wanted to hold this moment forever, Amélie was showing telltale signs that Zarya was going too far.

Her eyes began to droop, muscles growing slack. What little fight she had put up was now gone as she began to slip away. As her awareness threatened to fade, there was an elation deep inside her. It was like a high, as blinding bliss that hung over her mind. Everything was calm, still, peaceful. Her situation left her behind for colder climes, she was only interested in being in this small sanctuary of happiness. It suddenly all disappeared as the intruding phallus was pulled clear out of her body. With her airway clear her body began to cough, gasping for the air that it could finally reach. Amélie’s eyes were still hazy, long strands of saliva bridged the gap between her mouth and what had just been inside it. While her body was thankful, her mind only wanted to go back to that feeling.

“Impressive, Lacroix. I had doubts, but I expected slut like you could do it. I bet you enjoyed choking on it.”

A dumb expression still plastered across her face, her thoughts trudged along. It took her a few seconds to realize it, she hadn't given it any real thought until now, but she had enjoyed it. Deprivation was a high that she craved, an addiction to sate. Would she swallowed her pride, as well as a certain something else, to get there? Of course she would.

“Pl… please give me more,” she muttered, still trying to catch her breath.

Zarya smirked, her quarry was broken and willing now. Though she did enjoy the fight Amélie had shown earlier. “What is that? I could not hear you. I don't think you really want it.”

Widowmaker shifted uneasily. Her body needed it, her desire far stronger than she could handle. “I need it,” she blurted out. “I want you to stuff me until I pass out! Choke my whore throat with your delicious cock!”

She couldn't stop herself from laughing. Aleksandra found it unendingly hilarious; the prideful, sassy sniper was begging for more. “I knew you were like this. I could tell, under cold skin you are truly hungry. I suppose... I shall supply the meal… open wide.~”

She obeyed without question or conflict. Amélie’s lust addled eyes were dull, unfocused. Her mind and body were simply along for the ride now. Zarya began to push in again, her wide shaft gliding in far easier than before. With only a bit of coaxing, she found herself pushing to the hilt once more. The weightlifter held her place, watching as her ‘skewered’ captive grew faint. The look in her eyes was of undeniable pleasure, masked behind the fuzzy, grey facade. Before she passed out, Aleksandra pulled out and let a rush of air finally enter her lungs. She saw the color fill back into the woman's eyes, and it made her want to see it again.

The cycle continued. Tears ran down Lacroix’s face, carrying the black pigment of her mascara. It left bold, dark trails across her blue skin. Her captor felt a throb in her groin, seeing the spiderweb of runny makeup made her almost wild with lust as she held the once talkative sniper on the cusp of fainting. Of course, she had some fun of her own. Interspersed in their never ending game of ‘cat and mouse’, the muscular Russian had her way with Widowmaker. Zaryanova thrust eagerly, passionately, forcefully, as if she owned the prostrated woman. Her sizable, firm balls slapped into her chins. Long strands of saliva, leaking out from the vigorously used Amélie’s mouth, connected her jewels to the French woman's lips. Everything about this was perfect, she didn't want to wait, she wanted to finish here and now.

A pressure in her loins had been building. Her body wanted release, the desire increasing with each passing moment. Aleksandra’s pace doubled, her hips hammering away. Soft flesh, rippling muscles, it all rubbed against her sensitive head as she reached the end of her offensive. With one last act of raw lust, she shoved herself in as far as she could reach. Somehow, she reached even further than before, Widowmaker giving a small gurgle as the air was forced from her lungs. Zarya’s muscles clenched tight, her lower back growing taut. It was here.

“ _Gaaaaaah_! Take it all, slut. I’m going to fill your stomach to bursting!”

Zaryanova wasn’t selling herself short, a hearty groan sounding from her lungs. Her balls throbbed as they emptied themselves into the sniper. Her eyes went wide as the rich, creamy spunk was pumped directly into her stomach as promised. She didn’t get a taste, but she could feel the distinct texture as it clung to her esophagus and slowly dripped downwards like a gooey glaze. It was too much though, too thick and too fast it came. Aleksandra’s load was unable to travel the intended route, and began to take the path of least resistance. Up it rushed, managing to force its way around way around the intruding cock. With surprising force, it finally made itself visible. Twin strands of cum jetted out from Amélie’s nostrils, laying out across her captor’s crotch. Both women were alarmed at it, Zarya chuckling to herself.

She held her place, enjoying her personal ‘sleeve’ for a brief bit longer. Eventually though, she had to retreat as Widowmaker began to grow woozy and unbalanced. There was a small pop as her head finally exited. A few last wads of seed dripped onto the blue-skinned woman as the former weightlifter slapped her girth down onto her face. The sniper remained silent as if in a trance; the sole sound that came from her was her raspy breath. She clearly wasn’t all there, her mind and body were exhausted from being used so freely.

“I hope I did not break you…,” Zarya asked, curious. Only a grumble sounded in response as she leaned back into the nearby corner. “Good, good. I’ll be taking leave now; you can dress self, yes?

Amélie nodded, clearly not aware of what she was being asked.

She stifled her laugh. “I do feel tad bit guilty leaving you here… only a bit. You are strong girl, you will be fine.”

Aleksandra got dressed quickly, refastening her armor overtop her clothing. With a strong arm, Zaryanova hefted her plasma cannon and trudged off. Before leaving the alley, she turned to see the scene. The clothes and gear scattered about, the woman leaning against the corner. Her face dazed and sporting a few ropes of cum. Lacroix was thoroughly used and left behind, a fitting final punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my writing! You can follow me on [Tumblr](http://shivern.tumblr.com/).


	2. Tracer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracer needs some help repairing some plumbing. Thankfully, Zarya is always willing to lend a hand.

The reformation of Overwatch was inevitably going to be difficult. They weren't exactly supposed to exist, so secrecy was key for the members. Those who were able to meet up had to find residence in less than ideal locations. For a small group, they made due in an old, decommissioned base. It would be temporary, but certain repairs were necessary to help everyone keep their sanity.

Tracer’s room, for instance, lacked working plumbing. The young Brit lacked the knowledge to fix her pipes, but thankfully Zarya, the large Russian beauty, knew exactly how to get them working again. If someone were to pass by the room of Lena Oxten on the night Aleksandra came to help, they'd hear muffled grunts and groans as the bodybuilder laid pipe with her small companion.

=====

“Ahhh, ow!” Lena cried out in pain. “Zarya, love, is this necessary?” 

Her body was exposed, stripped bare save a small chrono device that would keep her temporal state stable. The young woman's arms with bound behind her, tight rope and knots made it nigh impossible for her to break free.

“Of course, very necessary,” responded the muscular woman, muscles straining as she finished the last knot. “You want pipe laid, I can lay pipe. Simple.” 

Lena let out a peep as she felt something slap down against the small of her back. It was long and warm, traveling back to her buttocks. She could feel it throbbing, small dribbles of fluid oozing onto her fair skin. Muscles tense, she shuddered with unease; unable to decide if this situation was for good or bad. Zarya’s large hands grabbed at her companion's firm, perky butt. The Russian’s fingers traced along her contours, stopping to tease both her back and front doors. She quivered as a pair of fingers pushed inside her sex, swirling about.

The teasing was one of the worst things Aleksandra could have done. Probing and pushing deep inside, Tracer’s loins throbbed in need of more and was summarily rewarded as another slipped inside. Her face drooped, just a miniscule amount, as her filled twat emptied. A peep escaped her lips as another private place was touched. Her pucker was being prodded by a pair of thick digits. They spread her, circled her rim, eased shallowly inside. She trembled at the touch of fingers inside her tender backside. It felt wrong to be doing this under such sudden circumstances yet another part of her was ever willing.

“This wasn't what I had in mind…,” she muttered under her breath. If Lena was to have sway, she realized she'd need to speak up. “Zarya, can we do this another time? I just want to get my plumbing fi-EHH-xed!”

Tracer’s voice jumped as Aleksandra pushed a few fingers inside her backdoor, straight to the second knuckle. As if it wasn’t tempting enough having her pussy toyed with, this was something on a wholly new. Air burst from her lungs as she was opened. Her knees trembled.

“And  _ thees  _ is how one fixes pipes,” the large woman teased, finally speaking up. Her accent stuck through her words. “I will show you, little Lena.”

The fingers inside Lena's butt retreated, giving way for something new. Large, thick, it began to prod against her rectum. Tracer knew what it was, gritted teeth preventing protest. Her friend used her bindings as leverage, pulling and pushing at the same time. They both groaned as the smaller woman was slowly stuffed. The sensation dominated Lena; Zarya wasn't dropping her pace and was unrelentingly delving deeper, no doubt intending to hit the bottom in one go. Every inch was a pleasurable agony; the Brit wouldn't admit she loved it but yet she wanted it all the way.

Her large friend stopped with only a small bit left to go. Tracer gave an exasperated groan as Zarya tried to dive deeper. The small woman's limits were being tried, a thick head was probing her inner curves without remorse. Tears were beginning to bead up in the corner of her eyes. Just how much further would this go?

“These pipes are bit smaller than I thought, though those little noises, how perfect they are!” A strong hand spun her face to meet her companion's. She couldn't hide what she was feeling. “Look at that face! Straining you, am I? Looks like you love it all the same; I think the rest will fit, da?”

More? Lena was already at her max, any more would be impossible! “Zarya, love, please no deeper,” she pleaded. “I can't take any mo-hmmph?!”

It was shoved into her mouth with sudden force, both her eyes and maw going wide. A round ball, red with straps from the ends, was locked in place as the ends were tied behind her head. Muffled cries rolled from around the gag. Tracer tried to fight it, more out of instinct, but it was all for naught.

A large hand smacked into her rear, making her bite into the ball. “I love your voice, little Lena, but it is… grating sometimes. You will come to like it, let us get around this bend.~” Zarya’s hands kneaded Lena's cheeks as she spoke, punctuating the end with another slap.

Bent over the bed, the Brit could kick and groan all she wanted, but Aleksandra was in full control. Once more she pressed in, once more she tried to push beyond the resistance that kept her at bay. A growing, rising sound began to escape from Lena as Zarya pushed deeper. She loomed over top, rotated her hips, did everything she could to get those last few inches in. Ironically, with all that work and effort, it came so suddenly. In one, brief moment, she hilted. 

The Russian’s fat cock forced itself around the last bend; she cried out in excitement while her skewered friend went rigid. So small, so tight, Tracer really was the tightest plumbing she'd ‘inspected’. Aleksandra worked her member is small circles, stretching out Lena as she squirmed. Small tears trickled down the Brit’s face, labored gasps muffled by the gag. With little thrusts Zarya widened the bend, testing the curve to her delight.

“Lena, how is it to have me deep inside you? I bet you are craving more, yes?”

Lena couldn't hide her desire anymore. She nodded slowly, as if that would hide her shame.

“Just small nod? Seems you want it rough…,” Zarya said sternly.

The bodybuilder didn't give her diminutive partner another chance to respond. In a demonstration of strength, Aleksandra pulled out and hammered back to the hilt in a single smooth motion. Then another, and another. Each full piston rocked Tracer’s body; ripples traveled along her flesh and the air in her lungs threatened to escape. Lena wanted to cry out, to revel fully in the reeming she was receiving. All the sounded from her were weak, undignified whimpers.

Zarya continued to strike her backside, leaving red, stinging marks. “You make sounds of that like  _ suka _ . Truly no shame, Lena. I wonder what sound you make when I fill you with cum.”

A wicked grin laced the Russian’s face as she looked down at her friend. It was a thrill to see her strained so much, yet in the height of pleasure. The feeling of her bowels couldn't compare to any other, and the sight of her little hole stretched so far for her meat made a knot of primal need form in her chest. She was going to plant her seed deep in this tiny woman; plant it deeper than she could possibly guess.

Vigor refreshed, Zarya began to make full use of her muscular physique. Her tight pouch, orbs swollen with sperm, slapped against Tracer’s pussy. Juices clung to her, Zarya could tell just how aroused her lover was. Lena was at her mercy, along for the ride, and she was making full use of that fact. The Brit’s little butt bounced under Aleksandra’s forceful thrusts. Their slickened flesh rubbed together, making loud squelches as the bodybuilder laid her large pipe inside Lena. The noises that came from around the gag grew louder and louder. Tracer began to bite down on the ball, saliva rolling down its smooth surface; it was her bit as Zarya rode her into the ground.

Once more her head was turned to meet her friend's. “Do you want my cock to let loose inside you? Fill you deep and full?”

Lena gave frantic grunts and nods, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“I thought you would, little  _ shlyukha _ .”

In truth, Zarya had been riding the line, waiting until her companion was in a delirious state. It didn't take much more effort to get her over the edge. With only a few last, heavy pushes she bottomed out, balls pressing against Lena’s moist sex. The Russian grunted, a deep throb and blinding pleasure pulsed through her as she sowed her seed. Cum, abnormally thick and hot, flooded Lena's ass. She mewled as it filled her immediate opening and rushed deeper.

Her small body shook as her climax came and she joined the woman that had been using her as a sleeve. Butthole stretched, colon filling with viscous spunk, it was too much for her. A long, stretched moan rolled from her throat. It was the high-speed finish at the end of a roller coaster. From zero to sixty, and back to zero, Lena went. The blinding pleasure and rush made her mind weak, fraying her thoughts thin. Her eyes went blank, head planting into the sheets as she passed out.

Zarya groaned as her balls finally emptied out the last of her sperm into her now unconscious partner. She remained inside for a while longer, enjoying the moist heat, before finally removing her prick. There was a faint yet audible pop as her cum-slickened cock came free, followed by a gurgle as thick glob of spunk rushed out. The Russian let Lena fall into the sheets as more and more of the pearly milk can running out. Butthole agape, the Brit was certainly a sight to behold.

“ _ Blyad _ ... those were tough pipes…,” she muttered aloud. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Zarya began to refasten her pants. 

She left Lena bound, giving one last slap across her bright red rear. A wad of cum was loosened by the blow and dripped out onto the sheets. To see a pool of her own sperm leave the stretched open hole of her lover gave her pangs. Zarya would love to push her way back inside for another round, but she had other ‘matters’ to attend to.

She knew Tracer wouldn't hear here as she spoke, “I will be back later, Lena. Will fix your ‘pipes’ right then.” Chuckling heartily, she left the small woman, well used and draining cum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my writing! You can follow me on [Tumblr](http://shivern.tumblr.com/).


End file.
